


Resilient

by Ringshadow



Series: Dynamic Factors [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: D/s, I thumbtapped this one too, M/M, Nick is kind of a jerk, Sex fails, ow my hands, sex is not always graceful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being sub really does touch all aspects of Phil's sex life, even his alone moments, much to his annoyance. And Nick Fury has curious ideas as to what counts as light duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resilient

The day after Clint took him out, Phil discovered something else: masturbation was different.

  
  
And it took him a while to figure out how, exactly, to put a finger on what he was feeling and put words to it. It was an act he'd always been somewhat pragmatic about, really. He had never had his own sub and while he'd sometimes done single scenes to scratch his itch and theirs, he'd always felt that picking up a sub just to satisfy his need for an orgasm was the wrong mindset.

  
  
So, getting himself off then. Typically not difficult, he was long familiar with his body. Dom or not he enjoyed prostate stimulation so he often went that route if he had a bit of time. He was off duty and had slept in, and had waked up in the middle of a very good dream if his aching hard cock was any indicator. So he'd cheerfully gotten into his toy box, and yeah he'd relaxed open faster than normal but...

  
  
He'd ended up rocking on one of his more realistic toys, fingers fisting into his blankets and head bowed, jittering at the edge of what could be an amazing orgasm if he could just get there. Because he felt odd, somehow. Like he shouldn't be doing this, which was ridiculous. He'd stroked himself at first and the odd guilt and shame had made him set his hand down.

  
  
He's a tactician though, strategy is something he's used to and he went to work figuring out the problem even as he slowly rocked, twitching and fingers gripping hard as the toy rubbed over his prostate. He has no logical reason to feel guilty. He never has before, so this is something to do with his factor shift.

  
  
Strange. Why would a sub feel guilty about...?

  
  
And just that fast the realization hit him like a ton of bricks: because he hadn't been given permission. He hadn't been told he could touch himself, he hadn't been told he can come. He stilled briefly, thunderstruck and realizing he needed to do a lot more research into what his body was starting to crave.

  
  
For now though, he leaned and grabbed his phone, dialing with shaky fingers and putting it on speaker, schooling his breathing even as his body tensed nervously and tightened on the toy inside him.

  
  
"Hey Phil." Clint said when he picked up; sounding husky and half awake and Phil felt his body sway toward his phone.

  
  
"I'm sorry about this because what I am about to ask is way, way beyond a reasonable request..." Fuck, he sounds as raw and desperate as he is.

  
  
"What's wrong?" And now Clint sounds awake, the shuffle of cloth carrying through the phone.

  
  
"No, no, I'm fine." He swallowed back a whimper. "I just, I need you to tell me I can come."

  
  
Clint's sudden sharp intake rattled over the mic of his cell phone. "Ah. Okay. Are you..?"

  
  
"Yes and I am seriously arrested right now okay? I really don't want to blueball myself and..."

  
  
"Calm down. Breathe for me." His voice came out different, firm and strong and Phil's body responded slowly. "You'll be fine; I'll talk you through it...”

  
  
"I'm sorry. This is so fucking ridiculous." He rubbed his eyes with a half sob.

  
  
"It isn't. Will you tell me what you're doing?"

  
  
"I uh. I'm kneeling on my bed riding a toy." He felt a blush spread all the way to his neck and shoulders.

  
  
"Really. Are you touching yourself at all?"

  
  
"No."

  
  
"Good boy."

  
  
He whined, biting his lower lip and jerking in surprise at the rush of satisfaction that went through him. "Clint, I...” He's frightened somehow, he doesn't say. His body doesn't feel entirely like his own and it's at best unnerving.

  
  
"You're fine. I know this is probably strange to you, and I'm sorry that I'm not there." There was a rattle and Clint's voice sounded more distant, also putting Phil on speakerphone.

  
  
"What do you want me to do?" He's staying still with effort, even as his body throbs around the toy and his cock drools.

  
  
"Get yourself off. Let me hear it."

  
  
Well, that he could do and he groaned in relief as he started moving again, making the effort to lift himself high enough the toy nearly slipped free before dropping his weight. He arched his back, bracing his hands on his thighs as he moved, panting.

* * *

  
  
  
Clint's still reeling a bit. Phil's phone call had waked him up, and for a split second he'd thought something was wrong before Phil had gotten an explanation out.

  
  
So, his CO had called him to beg for phonesex, sort of. He can't say it was out of the blue, they'd been very carefully dancing around each other since he'd found out Phil was sub. Mostly that was Clint's fault. He doesn't want to pressure Phil into anything.

  
  
Apparently he's doing something right in his life because oh fuck the noises spilling through the phone lines, tight and desperate and sweet, will be fueling his fantasies for a long time. He shoved his boxers down to his thighs, wrapping a hand around himself to stroke in time with Phil.

  
  
"Slow down a bit." He suggested. "Sink down on it; let it really rub into your sweet spot."

  
  
The little gasping whines stuttered for a moment, and then turned into moans. "I'm so close I've been so close for so long please let me come sir."

  
  
He gritted his teeth, mind putting Phil into being bound, rope harness and arms tied, held wanting and desperate and fuuuuck he wants to touch and cradle Phil's face and stare into those wiped out blue eyes. He shook the image off slightly as he gasped out, "Do it, come for me right now."

  
  
The moans cut off into a startled sounding keen, a few panting gasps, then some weary frustrated swearing.

  
  
"What?" Clint wanted to know because that was a very strange soundtrack for the orgasm he was still dealing with.

  
  
"... I just came on my phone."

  
  
Clint gaped at his own phone then started laughing helplessly.

  
  
"This isn't funny." Phil sounded sulky.

  
  
"Sorry. Sorry, baby." He dragged his shirt off and used it to wipe off his hands. "Do you feel better at least?"

* * *

  
  
  
"Yes. Might have been one of the harder orgasms I've ever had." Phil admitted after a beat. He'd pulled off the toy slowly, wincing a little, and was now regarding the sorry mess that was his phone. Thank fuck for water proof cases.

  
  
"Good." Clint just sounded happy as hell.

  
  
"...did you..?"

  
  
"Listening to you? Hell yes I did."

  
  
He got wet wipes out of his drawer, seeing about starting to clean up. "I'm sorry." He felt oddly low.

  
  
"I'm coming over." Clint replied.

  
  
"You don't have to..."

  
  
"What the fuck kind of dom am I if I don't take care of my sub, sir?"

  
  
He had to smile at his phone as he wiped it off. "Point taken. Bring coffee."

  
  
"You got it. You get cleaned up and dressed, lazy clothing, okay?"

  
  
He blinked, a little surprised. "Okay. See you soon."

  
  
"Still a good boy." Clint sounded beyond fond, and hung up.

* * *

  
  
By the time Clint arrived, Phil had managed to work himself into one bout of nigh hysterics and back down again.

  
  
"I am fifty god damn years old." Was how he greeted Clint when he opened the door, in an old Captain America shirt and sweats.

  
  
"Hello to you too." Clint kissed his forehead on the way by. "I have Cuban coffee and breakfast burritos."

  
  
"My hero." Phil decided, following Clint to the table. "I am so fucking embarrassed. I'm sorry I..."

  
  
Clint gently set a finger to his lips. "Phil. It's okay." Seeing his look he smiled. "It really is. Eat your burrito."

  
  
Phil grumbled but Clint was well aware of Phil's tastes in food, and sat at the table to dig in. Clint's on target as always, his first few bites too fast, the still-hot contents burning his mouth.

  
  
"Easy baby." Clint laughed, unwrapping his own and taking a bite.

  
  
"Yeah, like you have any dignity at the table." Phil scoffed. "You're taking this well." This he said with less certainty.

  
  
Clint stared at him, and considering his bad case of resting murderface Phil wasn't sure how to interpret that. "You astound me. I know how smart and observant you are and yet you really didn't notice? Really sir?"

  
Phil blinked. "I'm guessing that saying 'notice what' will prove your point."

  
  
Clint snorted and facepalmed for a moment. "Phil I have been wanting to scene with you since you recruited me. I've never cared that we're both dom, I have always found you hot as hell. You're a badass. But you never played with other doms and didn't seem down for outside dynamic sex so..."

  
  
"You have a crush on me?" He sputtered, skeptical.

  
  
"Something like that I guess. What I'm saying here is to me this situation is a gift from fucking above to me, and I am trying very hard not to take advantage of it, but really. Calling me to demand permission to come? It was a fucking wonder I didn't spontaneously jizz in my pajamas." He paused, looking at Phil through his fingers before dropping the hand. "Phil. Breathe."

  
  
He gasped in a full breath, then another. "I am no one special."

  
  
"I respectfully disagree. Finish your burrito."

  
  
He ate a few bites in silence before giving Clint a weary look. "Where is this going?"

  
  
"Back to bed, I suspect." He smiled and caught the napkin Phil threw at him. "It goes where you want. I am gleefully and complicity along for the ride. Okay?"

  
  
"...Okay."

  
  
  
Phil didn't go back to bed but he did end up sprawled on his couch across Clint's lap, face hiding against Clint's hip and shivering as his hair and back were stroked. The position also muffled what he was trying to say, and he's not sure any of it makes sense.

  
  
"Are you saying you like that I'm different?" He muttered, still rolling Clint's words around in his head.

  
  
"You aren't." He chuckled, fingers rubbing purposeful little circles over Phil's scar on his back. "You haven't really changed. Besides, I have always liked you for who you are. That’s kind of the point."

  
  
"It feels like I've changed a lot."

  
  
"You died. You suffered a huge trauma, then a dynamic shift on top of it." He stroked gentle fingers around one of Phil's ears. "If I had gone through that you would be sending me to therapy."

  
  
"No. Not after what Fury did to me."

  
  
He sighed, filling a momentary silence by sifting his fingertips through Phil's dark hair. "Why did you greet me by stating your age?"

  
  
"I feel like I'm thirteen. Lost and confused and baseless." He admitted. "I'm craving different things. Sometimes it’s hard to put words to. It’s strange to think I know my body yet I try to get myself off and I just... I couldn't."

  
  
"It's just inexperience. Trust me, subs can have quality alone time." He chuckled. "Though I was more than glad to help."

  
  
"God I hope so. This sucks." He huffed, looking up at Clint and pausing at his expression. Clint was relaxed, all the stiff lines out of his body, expression warm and tender and somehow firm. Made sense he supposed, he's been subby all morning, blissfully following Clint's orders, so Clint was being dommy in response.

  
  
"It'll get better." Clint smiled a touch, sliding a hand to cup Phil's face, smiling wider when he felt stubble.

  
  
Phil's cell phone rang, the high pitched insistent chirp he'd assigned to work related numbers, and he huffed. "Which of Murphy's invisible switches did you push, Barton?"

  
  
"Wasn't me." He denied, and pouted when Phil rolled off his lap. "Oh come on, you're off duty!"

  
  
He rolled his eyes and picked up. "Coulson."

  
  
"Hate to do this. But I need you to suit up." Fury replied.

  
  
"What's the situation sir?"

  
  
"Congressional hearings, and not only am I not exactly in a position to attend, they are asking specifically for you."

  
  
Phil blinked once, squaring up his shoulders without any real thought. "Why me sir?" Yeah he's basically Fury's right hand at the moment but he's not exactly a showy witness, even if he knows a lot.

  
  
"Well, apparently, they think you might testify against the agency."

  
  
"Well then this could be fun."

  
  
"My man. Oh and as far as I'm concerned you are still on medical leave and only authorized for light duty."

  
  
"A hearing is light duty?"

  
  
Fury scoffed. "Coulson you will eat these people for breakfast. In fact I am counting on it because it'll likely be on live TV."

  
  
"Ah. Am I your afternoon entertainment sir?"

  
  
"What the fuck?" Clint wanted to know, trying to follow along from half a conversation and starting to feel a bit lost.

  
  
"You're a good friend but somehow I think your boy Barton will take it personal if you're my entertainment." Fury was smiling; it was evident in his voice.

  
  
Phil smiled a bit. "Right. Email me the particulars."

  
  
"Already done."

  
  
They hung up at the same time, and Phil looked at Clint, who was pouting. "I'm being called in for a congressional hearing."

  
  
"Shit. Nat's going to that."

  
  
Now that made Phil smile wide. "Oh. Well then."

* * *

  
  
  
The hearing was, in Clint's opinion, a witch hunt at best.

  
  
Natasha and Phil had walked in side by side, Phil impeccable in his Dolce & Gabbana, both with their heads held high. They'd spoke some and come to an agreement. Natasha would handle questions related to the Triskelion events; Phil would handle anything addressing SHIELD's remains and the events at the Hub.

  
  
"Rogers meant to destroy SHIELD." Natasha told Phil as they walked together down the hallway.

  
  
"You cannot kill that which does not live." Phil replied. "He had good reason to make that call and arguably it might still happen."

  
  
"Would have happened if you hadn't held the last few threads together."

  
  
"Could have done more but I had problems of my own."

  
  
She didn't reply but he knew she knew everything.

  
  
The politicians at the hearing were cut throat and ready to burn the organization to the ground and piss on the ashes. Phil never rose to the bait, maintained his calm and leveled the blame finger right back. The Council didn't realize one of their own was HYDRA. None of the other agencies caught on to the members in congress and the senate. SHIELD had sins to atone for but they were hardly the only ones.

  
  
"An infestation. A virus spreading in an unknowing body." Phil shook his head. "And that virus is out. HYDRA is not gone just because SHIELD is crippled and one of their leaders, dead."

  
  
"To continue your metaphor, SHIELD is still infected. Frankly, Mr. Coulson..."

  
  
"Agent. Senior Agent. Level nine." Don't get upset, don't rise to the cheap bait.

  
  
"Mr. Coulson, tell us a reason why your agency shouldn't be put down like the rabid dog it is."

  
  
"Because you need us." Natasha replied.

  
  
"How do you figure?"

  
  
"We are the only ones with the playbook." Phil replied evenly. "Again, HYDRA still exists and even if they didn't, no other American agency is used to dealing with mutants and other superhumans."

  
  
"We would find a solution."

  
  
"And that is what? Kill them all? The majority are innocent civilians."

  
  
"Well that seems to be your playbook. Kill, imprison, experiment on. Some of the files released are frankly shocking."

  
  
He bowed his head slightly. "We are not proud, and now that we are free of such poisonous influences that will not happen again. That said," he lifted his head again, chin up and defiant, "would you like to know how many of those programs were in cooperation with the American Military?"

  
  
That brought an uncomfortable wave of muttering through the crowd.

  
  
"While we're on this topic, Iron Man recently found an abandoned base. Inside he found a pile of bodies with the tops of their heads sawed off and their brains missing." Another member of the panel said.

  
  
Phil didn't quell the wince, and Natasha leaned in to murmur to him. "Do not let them make it personal for you."

  
  
"That is one of the bad ones." Phil said after a long pause. "And I think I am infinitely more aware of the details than you are. One of the procedures gleaned from that lab is the one of two reasons I am alive." He glanced around, seeing that make waves. "I suppose the question I have for you is: why does Stark want that tech? I have nothing but respect for the man but you're better off asking him questions about that." He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "And that is the risk you need to weigh up, ladies and gentleman. Do you trust us? Or the private sector? Because here is another fact: AIM has that tech as well. We were developing in response to them." That said, he turned and started walking out.

  
  
"You can't leave, Mr. Coulson." One barked.

  
  
Natasha was also standing. "We're done here. We will be there when you need us. In the shadows if we must and in the daylight if permitted." She caught up with Phil and walked out beside him, both barely blinking at the bright lights of cameras catching their departure.

  
  
Clint had a car waiting at the curb, wearing casual clothes with his quiver slung over his t-shirt, bow hanging loosely in his fingers and sunglasses on. The news photographers loved it, he'd managed not to flip them off so far. Well that was a lie, he'd scratched his eyebrow with his middle finger. "Get in."

  
  
"Don't need to tell us twice." Phil replied. He ended up in the back with Natasha in the front passenger seat. "Where are we going?"

  
  
"Captain wants to talk to us all. And Stark demanded that the dead guy come get a drink, his words."

  
  
"Guess my survival's officially out now." He relaxed a little as Clint started driving, rubbing the back of his neck then sighing when his phone rang.

  
  
"That's Fury." Natasha said without glancing at Phil.

  
  
"Yes indeed." Phil glanced at the screen and answered. "Was that amusing enough sir?"

  
  
"You were just determined to stick them with some of the blame weren't you?" Nick wanted to know, connection tinny.

  
  
"Only what they deserve. Where are you sir?"

  
  
"Overseas. Working. Listen, I'll be in touch but officially, I'm still dead. So, congratulations, Acting Director Coulson."

  
  
Clint saw Phil's expression and yanked the car off the road, putting his hazards on in a fire lane and waiting.

  
  
"Neither of us is very good at being dead, sir." Phil said after a beat. After all, the entirety of their current headquarters knew Fury was in command. "And you have me on light duty."

  
  
"You're staying behind a desk. Light duty."

  
  
"All due respect but fuck you, Nick."

  
  
Fury laughed. "You'll be fine. Now go talk to Captain Rogers and apologize for the Agency still existing in spite of his most sincere efforts."

  
  
"Yeah, whatever, fuck off back to Germany and drink copiously for me."

  
  
"Already in progress." And Nick hung up.

**Author's Note:**

> Completely not beta'ed. Sorry.


End file.
